the sisters began to clear away the dishes Anna watched her with troubled eyes.

“Perhaps it’s because I called her ‘Rebby,’” thought the little girl regretfully. “I’ll tell her I am sorry,” and when their mother left the kitchen Anna whispered:

“Flora, I forgot when I called you ‘Rebby.’ But I will now surely remember. You are not vexed at me, are you?” and Anna leaned her head against her sister’s arm and looked up at her pleadingly.

Rebecca sniffed a little, as if trying to keep back the tears. She wished she could talk over her worries with Anna; but of course that would never do.

“I believe I’d rather be called ‘Rebby,’” she managed to say, to the surprise of her younger sister. “Do you suppose they really mean to put up a liberty pole?”

“Of course,” responded Anna. “I heard the minister say that it must be done.”

Rebby sighed dolefully. She was old enough to understand the talk she heard constantly of His Majesty’s ships of war capturing the American fishing sloops, and of the many troubles caused to peaceable Americans all along the coast; and she, like all the American children, knew that their rights must be defended; but Lucia Horton’s talk had frightened and confused Rebecca’s thoughts. To set up a liberty pole now seemed to her a most dangerous thing to do, and something that would bring only trouble.

She wished with all her heart that she could tell her father all that Lucia had told her. But that she could not do because of her promise. Rebecca knew that a promise was a sacred thing, not to be broken.

“Rebby, will you not go to the bluff with me? ’Twill be pleasant there this afternoon, and we could see the Polly if she chances to come into harbor to-day,” said Anna.

“You had best ask Luretta Foster, Danna,” she answered quickly. “I am sure Mother will want my help with her quilting this afternoon.”

Rebby so often played at being “grown up” that this reply did not surprise Anna, and she ran off to find her mother and ask permission to go to the shore with Luretta Foster, a girl of about her own age. Mrs. Weston gave her consent, and in a few moments the little girl was running along the river path toward the blacksmith shop where a short path led to Luretta’s home.

Anna often thought that there could not be another little girl in all the world as pretty as Luretta. Luretta was not as tall or as strongly made as Anna; her eyes were as blue as the smooth waters of the harbor on a summer’s day; her hair was as yellow as the floss on an ear of corn, and her skin was not tanned brown like Anna’s, but was fair and delicate. Beside her Anna looked more like a boy than ever. But Luretta admired Anna’s brown eyes and short curly hair, and was quite sure that there was no other little girl who could do or say such clever things as Anna Weston. So the two little girls were always well pleased with each other’s company, and to-day Luretta was quite ready to go down to the shore and watch for the Polly. Mrs. Foster tied on the big sunbonnet which Luretta always wore out-of-doors, and the two friends started off.

“Will it not be fine if the Polly reaches harbor to-day?” said Anna. “My father says she will bring sugar and molasses and spices, and it may be the Unity will come sailing in beside her loaded with things from far lands. Do you not wish our fathers were captains of fine sloops, Luretta, so that perhaps we could go sailing off to Boston?”

But Luretta shook her head. “I’d much rather journey by land,” she answered; “but ’tis said the Polly is to bring a fine silk gown for Mistress Lyon; ’tis a present from her sister in Boston, and two dolls for Melvina Lyon. Why is it that ministers’ daughters have so many gifts?” and Luretta sighed. Her only doll was made of wood, and, though it was very dear to her, Luretta longed for a doll with a china head and hands, such as the fortunate little daughter of the minister already possessed.

“I care not for Melvina Lyon, if she be a minister’s daughter,” Anna responded bravely. “She can do nothing but sew and knit and make fine cakes, and read from grown-up books. She is never allowed to go fishing, or wade in the cove on warm days, or go off in the woods as I do. I doubt if Melvina Lyon could tell the difference ’twixt a partridge and heron, or if she could tell a spruce tree from a fir. And as for presents, hers are of no account. They are but dolls, and silver thimbles and silk aprons. Why! did not my father bring me home a fine beaver skin for a hood, and a pair of duck’s wings, and a pair of moccasins the very last time he went north!” And Anna, out of breath, looked at her friend triumphantly.

“But Melvina’s things are all bought in stores in big towns, and your presents are all from the woods, just as if you were a little Indian girl,” objected Luretta, who greatly admired the ruffled gowns of Melvina’s dolls, such as no other little girl in the settlement possessed.

Anna made no response to this; but she was surprised that Luretta should not think as she did about the value of her gifts, and rather vexed that Melvina Lyon should be praised by her own particular friend.

The girls had passed the sawmill and lumber yard, and now turned from the well-traveled path to climb a hill where they could catch the first glimpse of any sail entering the harbor. Farther along this bluff stood the church, not yet quite finished, and beyond it the house of the minister, the Reverend James Lyon, whose little daughter, Melvina, was said to be the best behaved and the smartest girl in the settlement. Although only ten years old Melvina had already “pieced” four patchwork quilts and quilted them; and her neat stitches were the admiration of all the women of the town. But most of the little girls were a little in awe of Melvina, who never cared to play games, and always brought her knitting or sewing when she came for an afternoon visit.

Anna and Luretta sat down on the short grass, and for a few moments talked of the Polly, and looked in vain for the glimmer of a sail.

“Look, Danna! Here comes Melvina now,” whispered Luretta, whose quick ears had caught the sound of steps.

Anna looked quickly around. “She’s all dressed up,” she responded. “See, her skirts set out all around her like a wheel.”

Melvina walked with great care, avoiding the rough places, and so intent on her steps that, if Anna had not called her name, she would have passed without seeing them. She was thin and dark, and looked more like a little old lady than a ten-year-old girl.

“How do you do?” she said, bowing as ceremoniously as if Luretta and Anna were grown up people of importance.

“Come and sit down, Melly, and watch for the Polly,” said Anna.

“And tell us about the fine dolls that are on board for you,” added Luretta quickly.

A little smile crept over Melvina’s face and she took a step toward them, but stopped suddenly.

“I fear ’twould not be wise for me to stop,” she said a little fearfully; but before she could say anything more Anna and Luretta had jumped up and ran toward her.

“Look!” exclaimed Anna, pointing to a flock of white gulls that had just settled on the smooth water near the shore.

“Look, Melly, at the fine partridges!”

Melvina’s dark eyes looked in the direction Anna pointed. “Thank you, Anna. How white they are, and what a queer noise they make,” she responded seriously.

Anna’s eyes danced with delight as she heard Luretta’s half-repressed giggle at